100 Ways To Say I'm A Legend
by Johnny51.Face
Summary: An attempt to do the 100 drabbles! Some of the drabbles will be Murtagh's POV in random scenes of the IC, while others will be completely made up. Previously named 'My Mind Is My Only Sanctuary.'
1. Seek The Light

**Disclaimer: I don't own Murtagh, Eragon, Saphira, or anyone or anything else from the Inheritance Cycle. Credit goes to Christopher Paolini and Borzoi Books. **

_Seek The Light_

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_I'm running, running so arduously. I can't stop, my past chases me. I heard the whispers of hatred, not only my innermost thoughts, but also in my dreams. I fear I'll never be free of the terror that inhabits my heart. I can't shake my fright. The darkness follows me everywhere. I desperately seek the light._

Murtagh knelt on the muddy forest floor and examined the footprints that were left in the earth.

"They came this way," his deep voice vibrated in his chest.

He knew his words went out to no one, for the only thing that could hear his voice was his horse, Tornac.

He stood and peered through the darkness, narrowing his blue-grey eyes in attempt to spy his target.

He scowled when he heard voices in the distance.

"And what of thisss one? If he talksss?"

The hissing voices were unmistakable. They were the creatures he'd been searching for. The Ra'zac.

Murtagh grabbed hold of his horse's reins and speedily guided Tornac forward, intently eavesdropping on the Ra'zac's conversation.

"He would not dare . . ."

"Agreed . . . "

His ears became acutely aware of a sound that seemed like someone struggling. There now was no doubt in Murtagh's mind that the Ra'zac held some individual prisoner.

Murtagh tied Tornac to a tree and dashed towards the sound of the Ra'zac's voices. In mid-flight he pulled his bow from the strap on his back and strung a ragged arrow, holding it firmly between his fingers.

"None of that now!" one of the Ra'zac said to his prisoner in answer to the struggling.

Murtagh slid to a halt in the woods adjacent to a camp where a young and elderly man were being harassed by the Ra'zac.

His wary eyes detected instantly that the Ra'zac were aware of his presence and saw one of the demons lung for the elderly man and take a knife to his throat.

Murtagh promptly aimed his bow, pulled his arm back, then let the arrow go, hitting the Ra'zac in the shoulder. Murtagh brought forth another arrow and aimed at the other Ra'zac, then shot at him as the young man in the camp threw himself to the ground. The other Ra'zac screeched angrily as it threw itself to the ground, narrowly escaping the weapon.

"Damn . . ." growled Murtagh angrily at his failure as he yanked another arrow from his quiver.

Planning to use the war strategy of making it seem like a whole army attacked the Ra'zac, he repeatedly shot arrows at the Ra'zac, then raced to the other side of the camp and released arrows, to make it seem as if he were more than one person.

The smallest of the two Ra'zac seemed too frustrated to continue the attack, so he retreated, brutally booting the prostrate young man in the ribs as he escaped.

Murtagh's eyes snapped over to the second Ra'zac, who seemed to be lingering for an unordinary amount of time. It looked at the young man who grasped his side in pain, then picked up a dagger that lay on the ground in front of him and projected it towards the man.

Murtagh knew he could do nothing he could do as the dagger hurtled towards the pained young man. Murtagh gaped in shock as the elderly man soundlessly stumbled towards the young man and leapt in front of the airborne dagger, taking the blade into his chest.

The young man's face fell in shock and he exclaimed, "No!" as the old man dropped to the ground.

Murtagh's lips settled in a snarl at thought of the Ra'zac doing this to a couple of innocent travelers. They were so ruthless and evil that nothing could stop them from enjoying a kill from time to time.

Murtagh waited until the Ra'zac wholly retreated before stalking onward into the camp. He cautiously approached the two fallen travelers with all intention to help them. He knew that the elderly man was badly injured, and the younger man seemed to have slipped from consciousness.

He went to the older man first and turned him over so that he could clearly see the dagger wound. He expertly slid the dagger out from the man's chest and grimaced when he realized the weapon had slipped between the man's ribs. It was a danger to anyone, much less a man his age.

Murtagh stood and rapidly trailed back to Tornac and lead the horse to the camp. He stopped the animal and reached into the saddlebag to pull out some makeshift bandages. He then returned to the old man's side, cutting the man's robe with his own dagger that he concealed in his boot.

It took Murtagh several minutes to complete the process of bandaging the man, but when he was done, he turned to the younger man and walked towards him.

But on his short journey to the young man, something hit Murtagh in the side, causing him to fly backwards and land on his back. Murtagh leapt up with the agility of a cat and cagily looked around to search for the attacker.

Assuming that the Ra'zac returned for another go at a battle, Murtagh pulled his handsome hand-and-a-half sword from it's sheath. He looked from his left, then to his right and saw nothing. Then, Murtagh could feel eyes boring into him from behind. Murtagh slowly turned and gasped when his eyes rested on his attacker.

Standing before him was a large blue dragon with an elegant and graceful body. It stared at him with crystal-blue eyes and bared ivory teeth. A rumble of a growl emanated from the dragon's chest.

"_These creatures aren't stupid,"_ Murtagh told himself, nervously gripping his sword, _"Odds are that this dragon is far more intelligent than any human."_

Murtagh cautiously sheathed his sword and raised his hands in defense, saying to the dragon, "I'm only here to help, Great Dragon."

The dragon's prideful eyes glittered at the title, but didn't retract its defensive pose.

Then, like a whisper, a female voice entered his mind, _"Open your mind, Human."_

Although he knew that the dragon only wanted to ensure that his intentions were honorable, Murtagh's instincts took over. He threw mental barriers up in his mind to completely shield his memories from the dragon.

As he ripped the mind connection loose, the dragon jerked back as if the break physically hurt her. She growled louder at Murtagh and tried to reestablish contact. Murtagh slapped her mind probe away like a human would swat at a fly.

"_Give it up, Dragon. You will not enter my mind. You shall not hinder my only sanctuary," _Murtagh thought.

Although no real connection was made between them, the dragon seemed to understand his meaning. But instead of letting Murtagh pass and help the young man, the dragon slunk between the young man and Murtagh and protectively planted herself there.

"Have it your way, Dragon," Murtagh said out loud, "But if he is hurt badly, it will not be my fault if he perishes."

The dragon snarled at Murtagh and curled her body around the man. Once she settled in close to the human, she cast her glare upon Murtagh, making sure there were no attempts to touch him.

Murtagh lingered, knowing that the man would need help once he came to consciousness. He decided that he would stick around the battered travelers. He had no where better to be.

Besides, what better place is there to find adventure than with a dragon?

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**Note: I've always wondered what it would be like if you could actually see things in Murtagh's point-of-view. So, I'll try it for a while and see how people like it. I know this first chapter is boring, but I wanted to start off where Murtagh first appears in the book. I can already say, though, that I will not be going systematically through the books and just filling in Murtagh's thoughts when I please. I'll be picking random excerpts from the books that I enjoyed. Also, I have a terribly hard time writing without dialogue carrying the story, so please bear with me on this first chapter!**

**Anyway, please r&r. Kind comments, compliments, and constructive criticism are loved. Also, if anyone has an idea or a part of the book they want to have formed in Murtagh's POV, please let me know. I am going to be very open to suggestions with this story. **


	2. I Know Your Face

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Murtagh or anything else from the Inheritance Cycle.**

_I Know Your Face_

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He only just arrived in the minor camp, completely willing to offer his services. The old man was taken care of, but the younger one needed attention. The rescuer repeatedly offered to help, but the dragon refused to let him by.

Murtagh, feeling helpless and unwanted, sat by the fire with his chin resting on his fist. He gazed at the young man who still lay next to the blue dragon. There was something about the young man's face that looked familiar. Murtagh continued to stare, determined to figure out where he'd seen the man's face before.

The young man looked about fifteen years of age, his face not completely filled out as of yet. His hair was a dark blond color and his skin was deeply tanned. None of these attributes clued Murtagh onto where he'd seen the man before.

The face of the young man suddenly caught Murtagh's eye. The chin was angled and strong and the nose straight and perfectly shaped. The lips were full and altogether proportional. The face reminded Murtagh a lot of . . . his own.

Murtagh paled and touched his own face, feeling the characterizations that looked similar to the man's. In all, the two shared the same type of features.

Why? Perhaps Murtagh would never know.

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**Note: R&R. Kind comments, compliments, and constructive criticism welcomed! Thanks! **

**~Face**


	3. Lust For Blood

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_Lust for Blood_

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Murtagh mounted Tornac and sat quietly on his mount while waiting for his newfound ally, Eragon.

"_Go on, I'll be right down,"_ Eragon's words echoed in his mind.

Murtagh felt compassion for the young man's loss. The elderly man was a dear friend of Eragon's and Murtagh couldn't help but grieve for the loss.

Brom was the old man's name. _The_ Brom. The Brom who killed . . . Morzan.

Murtagh wrinkled his nose in distaste. Morzan, the man who should mean everything to him wasn't even fit to be thought about.

Murtagh's memory regressed to the times he would hear nobles in Galbatorix's castle talk about Morzan and his offspring as if they were rubbish. Although Murtagh would agree with them about Morzan, he never considered himself to be scum. He strove to do what he thought was moral. What more could anyone ask of him?

"_Yes, but inside, you do have a lust for blood . . ." _nagging words came to his mind.

Murtagh shook of the words said to him by Galbatorix. He didn't need discouraging words at this time, true words or not.

"I may have a lust for bloodshed, but at least trying to keep it hidden away. Right, Boy?" Murtagh said to Tornac, whose ears barely swivelled back to listen to his master.

Murtagh leaned forward to pat Tornac's neck, but looked in shock up when brilliant glimmering from his left caught his eye. Murtagh sat up straight and tilted his head to look up the side of the hill where he just came from. On the top, where Brom's tomb lay, came a light that shone like the sun's rays upon a diamond.

He squinted into the light, the rays lighting his grey eyes into an icy blue. Murtagh lifted a hand to shield the illumination and his eyes rested upon where Brom's tomb once resided.

There, high on the hill, was Eragon and his dragon, Saphira. They stood before what used to be Brom's tomb of sandstone, which was now a tomb what looked like ice.

Curiosity left Murtagh yearning to climb back up the hillside and discover what this miracle really was, but his respect for Eragon kept him stationary.

The young son of Morzan merely sat on his muscular horse, gazing up at the diamond tomb on the top of the sandstone hill, the pink sky serving as a backdrop to the breathtaking scene.

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**Note: Please r&r! Kind comments, compliments, and constructive criticism.**

**: Dammit, you are right! I totally forgot about Saphira being tied up at that time. Thanks for telling me without flames! I appreciate it so much! Thanks for your compliments too :)**


	4. More Than Meets The Eye

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_More Than Meets The Eye_

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Murtagh quietly resided by the campfire, whittling a piece of wood. The sun slowly set behind the trees, giving a soft, relaxing light to the small encampment he and Eragon set up. Murtagh lifted his eyes when he heard Eragon rustling around. The young Dragon Rider was flexing the muscles around his torso area, testing the ribs to see if there was any pain left from where the Ra'zac kicked him.

It had been little more than a week since Murtagh joined Eragon and Saphira. It surprised him that Eragon's wounds could heal s quickly. Undoubtedly his bound with Saphira advanced the healing period.

In the short time Murtagh had been with the dragon and its Rider, he'd learned a lot of things about the two mysterious travelers. Eragon had been a farmer previous to finding Saphira's egg in the Spine. He'd somehow caught the Ra'zac's attention and so Brom quickly moved Eragon from his village. But that was just basic information that Murtagh gathered. He saw, despite his link with Saphira, that Eragon was extremely weak. The boy claimed he could swordplay as well as anyone, but Murtagh perceived that it was Eragon's heart and mental state that were delicate. Eragon seemed to be fragile, as if his heart took too many grievances in the past.

Completely saturated in his own thoughts, Murtagh shaved off another sliver of wood with his dagger, not aware of Eragon approaching him.

Unexpectedly, with his peripheral vision, Murtagh saw Eragon draw his sword, Za'roc.

"_My sword," _thought Murtagh, knowing that the weapon, formerly owned by Morzan, rightfully belonged to him.

Murtagh felt his muscles stiffen as Eragon gave Za'roc a twirl, the Dragon Rider unaware that he tantalized the son of Morzan merely by the swords presence. Jealousy seethed through Murtagh's very being as he attempted not to glare up at Eragon with wrath.

"Now that I'm strong enough, would you like to spar?" Eragon inquired, his innocent voice melting Murtagh's anger.

There wasn't any way Eragon could know that the sword should belong to Morzan's heir. Murtagh was quite sure that Eragon had no idea that Morzan even had a son.

Murtagh returned his dagger to his boot sheath and threw aside the piece of wood he whittled and replied, "With sharpened swords? We could kill each other!"

"_Then again, the boy is weak. Maybe that will give me the advantage," _Murtagh thought with cockiness.

"Here, give me your sword," Eragon instructed, holding the palm that supported the gedway ignasia.

Murtagh warily looked at the mark on Eragon's hand, then drew his sword and slowly handed it to the Dragon Rider.

Eragon passed a hand over the hand-and-a-half sword's blade, then handed it back to Murtagh.

Murtagh wrapped his fingers around the leather handle of his sword and whirled it carefully, making sure the balance remained the same. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"I can undo them once we are finished," Eragon told Murtagh as the son of Moran ran his thumb along the edge of the sword, miraculously failing to procure a wound.

Murtagh scowled and took his stance, saying decidedly, "It will do."

Eragon bowed into a crouch, amusing Murtagh. It was pointless to flourish sparring. Sparring kept one fit, it wasn't for showing off.

Murtagh blocked the blow and easily moved away, watching Eragon warily while calculating his next attack. When Eragon didn't advance instantly, Murtagh when into action. He twirled his sword and quickly executed a three-blow attack. Eragon easily blocked the attack and retaliated.

"_He's a lot better than I expected he would be . . ." _Murtagh thought as he obstructed Eragon's onslaught.

Soon the two young men were deep in sparring, nothing else at the time mattering more than each of their attempts to get the upper-hand in the battle. But the longer they fought, the more Murtagh came to realize that he couldn't gain the vantage point, and neither could Eragon. The two matched perfectly, as if they were copies of each other.

Exhaustion began to weigh on Murtagh's body, but he was determined not to give up. A tired, yet hysterical laugh soon escaped from Murtagh's lips as Eragon carried out another series of advanced blows. The son of Morzan hated to admit it, but the entire situation was hilarious. Here he was, fighting a boy no older than 15, and he couldn't win.

"_I can't say I'm mad," _Murtagh thought as he ducked away from Za'roc, _"I've never fought anyone as good as he. I believe I have a new respect for Eragon. There is more about him than meets the eye."_

**A/N: I can't really say I'm thrilled with this chapter. I didn't want to put the sparring scene in here, but my next drabble was going to be about Murtagh coming to look at Za'roc in the middle of the night. That needed a chapter between it and the last one. **

**Anyway, thank you for reviewing! It really means a lot to me, and it also gives me the drive to keep on trying to make this work. **

**Continue to R&R. Kind comments, compliments, and constructive criticism are most welcome. **

**Oh, and by the way! I got a deviantart account. If you are interested in seeing some of my drawings, my username is FaceTron. **

**~Face**


	5. Who Are You?

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Inheritance Cycle.**

_Who Are You?_

It was pitch black in the camp. Murtagh lay awake, staring up at the star-spangled sky while Eragon and Saphira slept.

It was his turn to stand guard, and the quiet surroundings did much to awaken Murtagh's thoughts.

The one thing that rested uneasily on his mind was that sword. A weapon that belonged to his father, which somehow found its way into the hands of a simple farm boy.

The sword with its glowing, red blade was the only thing that Murtagh expected to procure from his deceased father. And no matter how hard Murtagh tried, he could not help but stare enviously at the weapon laying next to Eragon.

_"Just pick it up for a moment. Eragon won't mind if you look at it,"_ a voice in his head whispered.

Although Murtagh thought it might be more beneficial if he asked Eragon before he touched Za'roc, he stood up from his place beside a large oak tree and wandered over to Eragon's side.

He reached out and grasped Za'roc, gently and silently lifting it away from Eragon. Murtagh wrapped his fingers around the handle, then slid the weapon out of its sheath.

Pure power made Murtagh's arm tingle as he backed away from Eragon and carefully held Za'roc in the air. He twirled it a few times, testing the balance. Its length and weight seemed to match Murtagh perfectly.

_"If I could have Za'roc with me in my battles, I would be unbeatable,"_ thought Murtagh.

Suddenly, Murtagh froze. He felt invisible fingers gently tickling the back of his mind, trying to pry into his thoughts. Murtagh threw up his mental barriers as he whirled around and stared at Eragon, who in the same position as before, sound asleep.

Murtagh's eyes switched over to Saphira, who was curled up like a dog in front of a fire, her bright blue eyes watching his every move.

Her eyes were so compelling and expressive. He could almost read her thoughts merely by looking into her large eyes.

They seemed to say, _"Who are you?"_

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**A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the update wait. I have no excuse for the time it took to update! I'm meaning to keep on going with this story, but it's going to take a long time!**


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